"I wish that we--you and I--were married; that I was your wife, and that we had gone far away from here, away where no one knows us, where we could be quite happy, alone and together." "Do you really wish that, Doris?" he asked. Her face flushed slightly, but her voice did not tremble. "I do really wish it," she replied. "If papa were willing we would be married this summer, and we could go away, Earle, to some far-off land; then--when we had been happy for some time--we could come home again. I should have grown quite strong by then, and I should have found health, strength, and peace, all with you." There was a strange mingling of doubt and rapturous happiness on his face. "Do you really mean this, Doris?" he asked. "Would you--the queen of the season, the fairest object of man's worship--would you give up all your triumphs, all your gayeties, and prefer to live in quiet and solitude with me?" There was a slight hesitation for one half moment; he was so noble, so true. It was pitiful to use his great love for the obtaining of her own ends; but she must save herself--she must do that. "You may believe me, Earle," she replied, gently; "if it could be, I would far rather it were so." "Then, darling, it shall be--my head grows dizzy with the thought of it--you, my peerless, my beautiful Doris, will be my own wife when the summer comes. Why, Doris, listen! oh, listen, love! Do you know that I never fully realized that I was to make you my wife, though I have loved you so passionately and so well? You have always seemed of late far above me, like a bright shining star to be worshiped, hardly to be won. When I said to myself, that at some time or other you should be my wife, it has been like a dream--a bright, sweet, unreal dream. I do not know that I ever fancied you, sweet, with bridal veil and orange-blossoms; yet now, you say, you will marry me in the summer!" "That I will, Earle," she replied. "Heaven bless you, my own darling! Heaven speed the happy summer. Why, Doris, I can see the gold on the laburnums, I can hear the ring-doves cooing, I can see the smile of summer all over the land! Mine in the summer, dear; Heaven, make me worthy!" "There is but one thing, Earle," she said; "I--you will think I have changed, but I cannot help that--I want a quiet marriage. It would please me best if nothing were said, even about our engagement, but if we could go quietly to Linleigh and keep the secret of our marriage to ourselves; that is what I should really like, Earle." "Then it shall be so, my darling! Now, do not give yourself one moment's anxiety. Shut those beautiful eyes and sleep all night, dreaming only of summer roses and your lover, Earle. I shall see your father to-morrow, and I shall tell him; he will be quite willing, I am sure." "You are very good to me, Earle," she said, gratefully. "How foolish I was ever to think that I did not care for you, and to run away from you, was I not?"